A Very Bartowski Christmas
by Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: Christmas at the Bartowski house. Twenty years down the line.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Very Bartowski Christmas  
>Rating: PG-13. Because you never know.<br>Spoilers; Seasons 1-5  
>Disclaimer: The next gen characters are my doing. Everyone else belongs to Schwartz and Fedak.<br>Summary: Christmas at the Bartowski house. Twenty years down the line.  
>Notes: I have no clue where this is going. Bear with me.<p>

"Happy day before Christmas Eve."

Sarah Walker-Bartowski grinned as her husband kissed the back of her head. She'd been awake for an hour, doing the crossword in the newspaper, enjoying the quiet before her house was filled with the chatter of boys.

"And to you," she said, looking up at him.

fifty-four looked good on Chuck; his dark, curly hair sprinkled with gray, the laugh lines at his eyes were deep and he wore reading glasses that he constantly perched on his forehead, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head back just a little so they would drop onto his nose when he needed them.

It was a very Chuck thing to do. Nearly thirty years later, and he was still her Chuck.

As she watched him pour himself some coffee, she liked to think she was still his Sarah, though her hair was certainly graying and she felt much older these days, like she was one hundred instead of fifty-five.

After two children and a lifetime of spy work, she had changed quite a bit. For one thing, she no longer favored the ankle-killing heels or the skinny jeans.

Alright, she still liked the skinny jeans, but mostly she favored comfort over her old style, and working as a CIA instructor rather than an operative fitted a more relaxed sense of fashion.

It had been one of Chuck's harebrained schemes, turning Castle into a CIA farm, but like most of those schemes it worked incredibly well, and while Chuck trained analysts and counseled them on a less "trust no one, kill everything" sensibility, the CIA sent their best, most promising recruits to Sarah.

This included their daughter. Their pride and joy, apple of her father's eye, Sarah's very own little baby. Their first born Willow.

Anyone who accused the Bartowski's of coddling their babies was probably right, but they had produced two spectacular kids.

The aforementioned Willow (Willow Eleanor Bartowski) worked as a field operative for the CIA, and was currently being loaned out to MI-6 in London. All evidence suggested that she loved it there. Chipper emails filled with how her weeks were going and photos of friends and her new boyfriend popped up in Sarah's inbox once every two weeks like clockwork. Some emails were pages long, and some were only a few words, but such was the life of a spy.

Sarah felt both proud and worried. Willow was capable and strong but the spy life could be cruel. She couldn't wait for Willow to come home, even if she was bringing that new boyfriend and would probably have little time or patience for old family traditions.

Their son, Case (Casey Stephen Bartowski) was very different from his older sister. Sixteen, outspoken, mischievous and a little bit of a ham, Case was more interested in music, acting, playing sport, and competing on the debate team than any sort of espionage.

And that was fine with Sarah. More than fine. She loved to go to his plays and concerts and games and meets to cheer him on.

"Morning," the sixteen-year-old said as he bounded into the kitchen. He was a tall kid with shaggy blonde hair and a big smile. His brown eyes always seemed to gleam like there was always something going on in his mind; like there was always a joke or a plan. This morning, he sported a pair of long, blue running shorts and a thin grey t-shirt, obviously intending to go for a run after breakfast.

"Hi, Sweetie," Sarah said. She watched him pull a box of Pop Tarts from the cabinet and pull out two packages.

"No," Chuck said firmly. "Uh-uh. No. one pack and a banana."

Case pursed his lips, looking bitter.

"Bananas won't kill you," Sarah said. "And you'll be all jittery if you eat all that sugar, your run won't go very well."

Case huffed and put one pack back in the box. "Fine."

"Thank you," Chuck said, sipping his coffee. "So, Bartowski's, our expat arrives at two this afternoon. What's the plan?"

"Willow said they're renting a car," Sarah reminded him. "We don't have to pick her up from the airport."

Chuck looked a bit crestfallen at that but hid it with another sip of coffee.

"She's bringing the boyfriend?" Case snorted as he dropped his Pop Tarts into the toaster. "Isn't he like some weirdo inbred royal or something?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "His grandfather is a Lord. That doesn't mean anything for him. You, Casey, will be nice to him."

Chuck nodded in agreement. "We all will. It's hard spending Christmas away from your family, especially when it's to spend it with somebody else's, and especially especially when that somebody else happens to be your significant other."

Case wrinkled his nose at his father, looking a little confused. "Seriously?"

Chuck sipped more coffee. "I did, however, pull out the ole' lie detector from Castle and set it up in our basement."

"Chuck!" Sarah admonished.

"This guy, this...Jim person is dating our only daughter, and if he has weird, dirty, dark secrets I feel that we should know before it gets any more serious," Chuck said quickly.

Case stared at Chuck for a long moment before turning to Sarah. "He's finally lost it and turned into Grandpa Stephen, hasn't he?"

"Oh no," Sarah replied. "This is all your father."

"He could be part of the Ring."

"Okay, that's your grandfather talking," Sarah said.

Chuck frowned at her and huffed, and their son cackled a little.

Sarah got to her feet and kissed him and then kissed Case's cheek. "I'm gonna go shower."

Chuck's frown turned to a soft grin and he nodded. "We'll hold down the fort."

Sarah smiled at both of them and then headed out of the kitchen, toward the stairs, passing the large whiteboard that sat in the living room.

She stopped to look at it and grinned. It was covered in names and flight arrival times, and what, if anything, each name was bringing with them.

It was the first time in five years that their whole family would be here. Twenty years ago, Sarah would have had a freak out about the idea of so many people in their house, needing to be fed and given gifts and in some cases put up for a few nights, but these days, she was just happy they were all coming.

The whiteboard itself was getting up there in age. Chuck had bought it two days after he'd found her on the beach, before all her memories came back. She remembered watching him muscle it into their apartment and place it in the hallway outside their bedroom.

"When you remember something...anything, whether it's...something about me or some big crazy thing that happened or whatever," he'd told her. "You can write it down on here. And! I bought colored markers!" He'd shaken the box of markers with a hopeful grin.

It had taken a few months but the whiteboard was so filled up with things that were coming back to Sarah that they'd had to flip it and use the other side as well, until there was no room, and subsequently, nothing left for her to remember.

After that the whiteboard was used for other thing, like house hunting. Their dream home, sadly, became less of a dream in light of what Sarah had done to Chuck in it, as well as Quinn's looming presence, and so they'd used it to list their wants and needs, taping photos of places they'd looked at and ranking them from most desirable to least.

After the house came the plans for their new CIA farm, which took up one side, while everything they would need for their newborn baby when she arrived took up the other. After that, it became a doodle board, a teaching tool for homework help, and a way to negotiate family vacations, and now, it held holiday plans.

It was an odd thing to love a whiteboard so much.

Sarah smiled to herself and headed up the stairs and down the hallway to the master bedroom.

This house had become their new dream house after they'd given up on the old one (after Chuck had stolen and replaced that door jam, bringing it home with him. It now hung in their bedroom). It was much bigger, and the only reason they could afford it when they'd bought it was because it had been falling apart.

Chuck had thrown himself into the remodel. He wanted everything about it to be perfect, and he'd succeeded. The basement held a workout room (along with the large, squishy couch that Bryce occupied after coming back from the dead again), The main floor held their kitchen, living room, dining room and a spacious office that both of them used, while the upstairs held four bedrooms, plus a sunroom that held most of their books and comics, and had a balcony with an old telescope Chuck had brought home from a yard sale when Willow was little. The attic was designated the kids hideout, and boasted all their video games and old toys, along with a large blanket tent that had been erected when the kids were still small.

Sarah knew that in a couple of years, when Case went away to college, they'd have to find some other use for that room; go through all of the toys, maybe even take down that tent, but for now, they let it be. Besides, Chuck and Morgan still played video games up there all the time anyways.

She wandered into their bedroom, passing the bed to get to the bathroom for her shower. Even from there she could hear her husband and son singing some wildly silly Christmas song, and she laughed a little.

* * *

><p>Willow Bartowski had a sort of sixth sense about her family. It was an eerie talent to be sure. When she knocked on the door she could tell what kind of mood her parents and brother were in by what her knuckles sounded like against the wood. A deep low rap meant all was calm; no need to worry. A higher pitched knock was a sign of tremendous chaos. Someone had blown something up or Case had gotten into trouble again.<p>

Upon opening the gate that lead to the front walk and stepping through the adequately mowed grass she stepped up onto the spacious porch. Her boots made a comforting thumping sound which was a good sign. Had the thump been more of a tap it meant her mother was in a terrible mood.

"How is it going so far?" Jim asked behind her, carrying their bags.

Willow sighed and nodded, looking back at her boyfriend. "Not bad. Mom should be in good spirits."

Jim nodded standing behind her more for protection than anything else. Rumors about the Bartowski clan spread far and wide throughout the intelligence community. All accounts suggested they were good natured but a little kooky and quite a bit dangerous.

Not that Willow didn't count for being dangerous (she was a field agent after all) but the gossip about her mother punching her way through Thailand, earning her the name Giant Blonde Shemale was genuinely worrying. To say nothing of her father bringing down a slew of Russian paratroopers on a CIA team that stood in-between him and his wife.

Each story about the Bartowski's was more outlandish and exciting than the last, and it was easy for Jim to imagine that these were Willow's parents but it didn't make it any less intimidating to meet them.

Jim Marbury wasn't anything special, at least in his own eyes. He worked as an auto engineer and mechanic for MI-6. He was no genius or brave field agent. Just a guy who knew his way around a car. He was of medium height, and medium build, with blonde hair and annoyingly bright blue eyes. His teeth were a little crooked, but in an endearing way (so Willow told him), and his skin was very pale.

Willow, on the other hand, was spectacular. She was tall and beautiful with a wide, bright smile, and big brown eyes. Her hair was curly and dark brown, and very long, and her skin was pale, but Jim knew she tanned instead of burned in the sun. She was a little quiet, but not shy, and she was an incredibly capable agent.

The rumor mill had buzzed incessantly when she'd first arrived in London. About how dangerous she was; about how she'd been trained by the best. Jim had thought nothing of it. So many agents came through MI-6, and all of them had something to boast about, but when he'd met her, Willow hadn't been interested in showing off.

In fact, the first thing she'd said to him was this:

"So do you guys have corndogs in England?"

It had endeared her to him immediately, despite not knowing for the life of him what a corndog was.

She'd been shocked by that, and the next week had returned, though she looked a little crestfallen.

"I tried to make you some corndogs but I burnt them. I only know how to make pie. Do you like pie?"

The week after that, when she'd returned (with a pie), he'd asked her to dinner and the rest was history.

Now they were standing on the front porch of her parents' house, waiting for the door to open. Willow's knuckle's had made that deep rapping sound she'd so been hoping for, and so she smiled and laced her fingers through his.

The door swung open, revealing a very short man, with salt and pepper hair and a matching, bushy beard. His face was a little wrinkled but his blue eyes were lively, and he was wearing a "kiss the cook" apron.

"What's the password?" he asked, his voice oddly gravely and his face in something of an exaggerated scowl.

"The Eagle Flies At Dawn," Willow said, though how she kept a straight face, Jim would never know.

The man's face lit up immediately, and he practically jumped to hug Willow. She giggled and hugged him back tightly.

"Hi, Uncle Morgan."

The older man launched an excited rant as he led her into the house. "How is my most favorite of favoritest nieces? How's England? You look great. Your parents can't wait to see you. We just got here about an hour ago. I can't believe how long it's been! You are gonna make the pies this year, right?"

Jim stood on the porch, ignored, blinking.

It was going to be a long Christmas.

He looked around, until seemingly out of nowhere, Willow's hand grabbed his sleeve, and tugged him inside with her.


	2. Chapter 2

At some point in his life colonel John Casey realized he just couldn't stay away; that somewhere down the line, Burbank, of all places, had become something of a home.

Maybe it was when Walker got her memory back. Or maybe it was when Grimes decided to Alex, and then both couples started squeezing out kids. Whatever it was, it had set in.

Casey had been there for all the things he'd never expected to see. He'd walked his daughter down the aisle, and he'd held his niece, granddaughter and nephew when each one was born. In fact, when he'd gotten word that Sarah was pregnant for the first time, he'd taken a helicopter in just to make sure Chuck wasn't driving her nuts. When Alex was pregnant, he'd arrived during month four, and stayed til she'd had the baby, dividing his time between helping her and Morgan and working with Chuck and Sarah at their spy training school.

Now, years later, he got out of the rented Crown Vic in front of the Bartowski house to spend Christmas with the family. Yet another thing he never thought he'd ever do.

A young woman paced the front porch with a cell phone pressed to her ear. She was tall and thin but muscular with dark raven hair and tan skin. Her eyes were dark and held a constantly judgmental almost skeptical look. She wore a white tank top and jeans with a pair of clunky black combat boots.

Jaina Alexis Grimes (who had managed to score all of the recessive genes from her parents' DNA) was home for the holidays on leave from OCS, and gone was the bratty, snippy kid from years before. She'd been replaced by a confident, capable young-

"With all due respect, Captain," Jaina said into her phone, "You're a moron."

Casey gave a soft grunt, accepting that some things never changed, and hobbled up the porch steps. He'd been shot in the leg one too many times, and now was doomed to walk with a cane. It also meant his involvement on jobs had decreased severely. He still got to help with the planning, and he was still Gertrude's best sharpshooter (in more ways than one), but when there was running involved he had to take a backseat.

He never thought he'd hear the words "stay in the van, Casey," but there you have it. He supposed it was his turn. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was getting old. Staying in the van and commanding the troops from afar wasn't as bad as he had always dreaded.

Jaina turned then and smiled. "If you'll excuse me, Captain, I have other things I need to take care of. Merry Christmas." She hung up and threw her arms around Casey.

He stumbled back a little and patted her shoulder. "Jaina. What have we said about respecting our commanding officers?"

"But Colonel, he's a moron!" Jaina whined.

"Sometimes that happens," Casey told her, pulling back, getting a good look at his granddaughter. "Not bad, Candidate Grimes."

"Thank you, Colonel Sir," Jaina grinned. She stepped back and waved her phone. "One more phone call."

Casey nodded and ruffled her hair. "Don't be too long." With that, he swung the front door open without knocking and stepped inside, looking around.

Chuck and Sarah had always been about comfort, and so their house never really changed too drastically. If something broke or wore out, of course they would replace it (or fix it, depending on their level of attachment to the item), but on the whole, they kept things nice and simple, the same as it ever was.

Maybe that was because of what had happened to Sarah; their fears about memory loss fueling them to resist redecoration, but it wasn't as if the house wasn't nice. Casey had been impressed when he'd come for a visit after they'd finished the remodel.

The front door opened up on the living room, which was brightly lit with big windows, and populated by deep blue couches and a large flat screen television that sat above an impressive fireplace (though why anybody in Southern California needed a damn fireplace Casey still wasn't sure).

In the far corner near the doorway to the kitchen stood a large, slightly lopsided tree, which was currently in the process of being decorated.

Alex spotted him first. "Dad! Hey!" She dashed over and hugged him tightly. It was weird to Casey that so much time had passed and he still thought of this grown woman, who was married with a grownup daughter, as his little girl, but what the hell.

"Hey, Alex," He said gruffly, hugging her back, a little awkward as usual.

She smiled up at him and patted his arm. "I'm so glad you're here. Did you see Jaina? She's out on the porch."

Casey nodded. "Yeah. She looks good. So do you."

Chuck grinned and hopped over the box of tree trimmings to get to him. "Hey, Buddy. How was the trip? No Gertrude this year?"

"She's in Cambodia, but she sends her best," Casey told him. "Trip was fine."

Chuck nodded and turned back and called into the kitchen. "Hey, Case? Case! Can you go grab the Colonel's bag from the car?"

Casey was about to protest that he could get it himself, but he stopped, and his eyes widened as he watched his namesake mosey into the living room. "The hell? How'd he get so damn big?"

"Right?" Chuck said sympathetically. "He had a growth spurt over the summer and now he's enormous."

The kid grinned and patted his father on the shoulder. "Sure thing. Hey, Colonel."

Casey grunted and watched, still a little stunned.

"It's good to see you, Casey," Chuck said sincerely and Casey gives another grunt.

"keep your lady feelings to yourself, Chuck," Casey replied automatically. He didn't really mean it, and Chuck knew so.

From one of the couches, Casey heard an entirely new voice ask "what are lady feelings?"

Casey's eyes narrowed in on the newcomer, a pretty boy with blonde hair and an upper class British accent was looking at Willow quizzically.

"That's the boyfriend?" Casey asked Chuck quietly.

"Yep, that's him," Chuck muttered. "So far he's well mannered, but he sticks out like a sore thumb around here."

"Want me to kill him?"

Chuck looked horrified for a moment but then seemed to consider.

"No," Sarah answered for her husband as she walked up. She hugged Casey and then pulled back. "Hi, John. Come have some eggnog."

He nodded and followed Chuck and Sarah toward the kitchen, stopping on his way to give Willow's hand a squeeze.

"Hi, Colonel."

"Being good?"

"Yes, Sir."

He gave an approving grunt and she offered him a candy cane, which he stared at for a moment, before taking. He had no intention of actually eating it, but he never could figure out how to turn her down.

His attention turned from Willow to the young man sitting on the couch; the boyfriend. He narrowed his eyes and gave this kid a low, disapproving growl, before Chuck called out his name.

* * *

><p>Willow grinned and watched her parents, the Colonel, and her uncle and aunt file into the kitchen, leaving her and Jim alone in the living room.<p>

"Did...did that man just growl at me?" Jim asked, obviously stunned.

"Yes, he did," Willow replied. She knew she should have been more sympathetic. She'd never brought a boy home before, and her family could be a little peculiar, but she was honestly just looking forward to a nice, relaxing Christmas. She'd missed these people, and was glad to be home.

Jim got to his feet and joined her at the tree. "And that was..."

"The Colonel," Willow informed him. "Colonel John Casey, formerly of the NSA, now co-owner co-runner of Verbanski Corp."

Jim's eyes widened in recognition. "He's...he's usually in all those stories about your parents."

"That's because he was Dad's NSA handler way way back in the day."

"Ah." He hung a couple of ornaments on the tree. "I really am doomed, aren't I?"

"Only a little," Willow replied, amused. "And I'll protect you."

Jim huffed. "What do you suppose they're talking about in there?"

"I dunno, whatever grown-ups talk about," Willow replied with a grin.

"We're grown-ups," Jim pointed out.

She laughed. "Not for the next week. Not in this house."

* * *

><p>"Team Bartowski, together again," Chuck said. "It's been a while."<p>

"Except with more eggnog, and less matters of national security," Morgan added. He lifted a glass. "To a disaster-free Christmas."

They all lifted their own glasses and voiced their agreements.

"May the only thing that catches on fire be Sarah's turkey," Casey joked.

"I can still throw you out a window," Sarah grinned.

"Not on my watch," Alex laughed.

"When are the Awesomes getting here?" Morgan asked.

"Not til late tonight," Chuck replied. "And Bryce and company get here tomorrow morning."

"Jo's not coming," Sarah said. "She got a last-minute mission."

Casey grunted. "NSA keeps her hopping."

"Well, you did train her, buddy, it's no wonder they keep pulling her in on jobs," Chuck said.

"Trying to butter me up, Bartowski?"

"Is it working?"

Casey grunted and gave him a shove.

"I still can't believe she married that douche," Morgan commented.

Chuck sighed. "Morgan, I am begging you. Please. Just...be nice to Bryce. Especially since Hank and Jaina-"

"Don't say it."

Casey quirked an eyebrow. "What about Larkin's kid and my granddaughter?"

The occupants of the kitchen went silent, all of them staring at the Colonel.

"Well?"

"You see what you did?" Morgan whined. "Now we have to tell him!"

"Better we tell him than he finds out when Hank gets here," Sarah pointed out. "Hank and Jaina have been having a long distance relationship."

Casey growled.

"Dad," Alex said gently. "They are both very grown up now, and can make their own choices. And Hank is very nice."

"He's a Larkin."

"An adopted Larkin," Sarah pointed out.

"Larkin raised him," Casey snapped. "First my best student marries that idiot, now my granddaughter's..." he growled again.

"Hey, hey, hey," Morgan warned. "What did we say about a disaster-free Christmas? There's gonna be so many people here, they're gonna be distracted from each other. Besides, shouldn't we be focusing on the complete stranger Willow brought home?"

"Jim seems very nice," Sarah defended.

Chuck muttered to himself.

"What was that buddy?" Morgan said jokingly. "Did you just say 'I'm turning into my father with the way I talk to myself'?"

"Oh, very funny," Chuck snapped.

"We're making an agreement right here, right now," Sarah said firmly. "It is Christmas. Our first Christmas together in a long time, and we are going to be nice, even about the things we don't necessarily like. That includes Hank and Jaina, and that includes Willow's boyfriend. Deal?"

Chuck sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry, baby...Deal."

Casey grumbled. "Fine. Deal."

"Deal," Morgan said quickly.

Alex smiled. "Deal. Definitely."

"Good," Sarah smiled. "Now. We've got a tree to decorate, and food to make. Let's get moving."


	3. Chapter 3

"I didn't know what kinds of pies you wanted to make so I got the basics, and anything else, we can just go to the store and get."

Willow smiled at her mother as she pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail. "Sure, Mom. Whatever you want. I could even run to the store by myself if you needed me to. I still remember where everything in Burbank is."

"No, no, I can come," Sarah insisted. "You're not home every day, I'd like to make the most of having you here."

Willow's arm wrapped around Sarah and she grinned. "We could sneak off and get manicures, too, if you wanted."

Sarah laughed. "Aunt Alex and Jaina would be seriously pissed if we left them here with all these boys to get manicures. We'd better stick to a shopping list."

Her daughter nodded and pulled out her smart phone, ready to make a list. "So, what do you think of Jim?"

"He...he seems nice."

"But?"

Sarah bit her lip. "We just met him, Will. So far he seems nice. And if you're happy with him, then we're happy for you."

Willow grinned a little. "That was incredibly diplomatic for a trained assassin."

"Well, Team Bartowski made a deal: we're all going to be very nice. It's Christmas, so we're not going to start any trouble."

"Okay," Willow nodded. "What does dad think of Jim?"

"He thinks...that you are still six years old, and that you are too young to be kissing boys."

"Ah."

"He'll come around," Sarah promised. "This family is a very tight-knit group. It can be hard sometimes to let new people in."

Willow looked up from her phone. "Dad brought home the lie detector, didn't he?"

Sarah sighed, and Willow burst into laughter.

"Mom, Jim's a really sweet guy. I think you guys are gonna really like him once you get to know him," she said. "Now come on. If I'm gonna make a half-dozen pies to go around, we've gotta get to the store."

"It's a good thing your father had the foresight to put in two ovens," Sarah said, taking her daughter's arm and walking out of the kitchen and toward the front door.

* * *

><p>"Going to the store," Willow announced to the group. "We'll be back."<p>

Jim's eyes widened as he watched his girlfriend, arm and arm with her mother, head for the front door. "Er...don't be too long," he said quietly, and then looked around at the people he was surrounded by.

Case, Alex, Morgan and Chuck were finishing up the decorations on the tree, while the Colonel and Jaina chatted on one of the couches. Jim was about to get up and offer to help with the finishing touches, but was shoved back down onto the couch by a thin, yet incredibly strong hand.

"You're the boyfriend?" Jaina asked, looking him up and down.

"Jay," Chuck warned.

"Y-yes," Jim said, staring up at her. She was incredibly imposing. "Yes Willow and I have been dating for six months..."

"Y'know," Jaina said. "Will and I have been best friends since...forever. We did everything together growing up. Shared toys, clothes, books, boys, and she is very important to me. Like a sister."

"Why is your daughter so scary," Chuck hissed harshly to his best friend.

"It's the Casey genes," Morgan lamented. "So much Casey genes."

Alex sighed and shook her head.

Jim swallowed hard, his blue eyes wide and nervous, as Jaina leaned closer.

"So I will tell you this, Jim," Jaina said, her voice low and menacing. "If you break my sister's heart, I will tear yours out, pan-sear it in a white wine reduction, and eat it. Slowly."

The Colonel gave a proud chuckle and sipped his eggnog.

Jaina smiled, pleasant and cheerful, and stood up. "Welcome to Burbank."

"I taught her to make white wine reduction," Morgan commented. "I regret that now."

Jim stared off at nothing in particular before getting to his feet. "I'm going to use the toilet. Excuse me."

* * *

><p>When ten minutes passed by and there was no sign of Jim, Chuck went looking.<p>

He felt bad now, for the whole lie detector idea, when he should have realized that other family members were less inclined to be nice.

It used to be that they welcomed new family members. Sarah had been embraced with open arms even before they stopped cover dating and started real dating, and the Colonel had gotten himself an invite to Thanksgiving that first year, when they'd only known each other a few months.

After so many years around spies Chuck supposed he was less inclined to welcome in new family than he used to be, especially with his sister living so far away. She and Devon were the King and Queen of the Welcome Wagon. At least they'd be arriving soon.

Chuck took a deep breath and tapped on the upstairs bathroom door. "Jim? Buddy? Do you really have to go that bad, or are you hiding?"

It took a moment, but eventually an answer arose.

"I wouldn't call it hiding, so much as...taking a breather."

"That's fair," Chuck replied. "Look, I'm sorry about Jaina and the Colonel. I guess Willow didn't really prep you for the scary."

"Oh, no, she did," Jim replied. "But I was foolish enough not to take her seriously."

Chuck cringed. "Yeah, we don't joke about that around here."

"Now I know why not."

"Look," Chuck said. "Why don't you come out, and help me start lunch? If we don't have it ready before my brother-in-law arrives, he'll start grazing in the fridge, throw the healthiest things he can find into a blender and then attempt to make everyone drink it."

"That sounds awful," Jim commented, cracking the door open a little.

Chuck grinned. "It is. And this man brings his own wheat grass, so it'll be doubly so. Come on."

"The only thing I really know how to cook is grilled cheese," Jim said, finally stepping out of the bathroom.

"Then it's a good thing grilled cheese is awesome," Chuck patted his shoulder. "You do that, I'll make some soup to go with it."

Jim tilted his head. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"General consensus is that I am a moron, and I'm too nice to everybody," Chuck grinned. "Now come on, we've got hungry people."

* * *

><p>Eleanor Bartowski-Woodcomb loved her brother's house. There was just something about it that spoke to her, probably in the same way that it had to Chuck all those years ago when he and Sarah had decided to buy it.<p>

It was big, but not too big, and had sort of a Victorian feel about it. When they'd first gotten it, the outside was painted an impressively awful shade of green with a darker green door, and the fence that lined the property had been black metal. Now, it was white, with a white picket fence and a cheery red door, just the way Chuck and Sarah had always imagined.

The first time Ellie and Devon and Clara had visited this house, before it was completely renovated; before the door was red, she'd been intensely nervous. Sarah had just gotten her memories back, and Chuck had thrown himself head-first into making this place perfect, and Ellie had been worried that he'd bitten off more than he could chew, to say nothing of her worries about Sarah.

Memories gone or no, the woman had threatened to kill her after all.

But that visit had gone surprisingly well, and repairing her friendship with Sarah had been surprisingly easy; after all, she'd thought. If Chuck could forgive being thrown down a flight of stairs, Ellie could forgive Sarah too.

They traded off Christmases now. Ellie did love hosting in their cozy Chicago home, but it was nice to not have to worry about where people were staying or what needed to be done every other year. It was equally nice to tell Devon's parents that "Oh, you know the drill, we hosted last year, Chuck and Sarah have this year! I'm sure Devon's brothers would love to have you!"

She hopped out of their rented minivan just in time for Sarah's Porsche to park behind them. "Ooh, somebody snuck off to get away from the chaos already."

"No, no, no," Sarah laughed as she got out of the driver's seat. "Willow and I went to get pie ingredients." She dashed over and hugged Ellie tightly. "Hi."

"Hi," Ellie said, hugging her back. "It's so good to see you, you look great."

"Never mind me," Willow called teasingly. "I'll just carry all this in by myself."

Devon laughed and stalked over, picking Willow up into a hug. "C'mere, Niece!"

"Agh! Help!" Willow laughed.

"Not a chance," Clara replied as she slid out from the backseat of the van. She was tall; taller than Willow, and her hair was blonde, styled into a pixie cut. She had tattoos along both arms shown off by the black tank top she sported, and there were more on her legs, covered up by her black jeans. Her nose ring glinted in the sunlight, and her brown eyes were dark and a little mysterious. "You brought that on yourself, little cousin."

Ellie grinned and watched her husband, still so tall and strapping after all these years, though his hair was streaked with some gray and his face a little more weathered, set their niece down. Said niece made a beeline for Clara, hugging her tightly.

The two girls giggled, as they always did when they were put in the same ten feet of each other, and greeted each other warmly.

Ellie could admit to herself that Clara's choices hadn't always sat well with her; the short hair, the cigarette addiction, and the tattoos, to say nothing over the handful of years Clara had spent hating her parents for no clear reason, but her daughter was happy now. She'd just opened up her own tattoo parlor in downtown Chicago, and it was going really well. It was hard to argue with that, so Ellie didn't try.

Ellie grinned and turned to Sarah. "Pie supplies?" she asked, as Clara and Willow chatted their way toward the house.

Sarah nodded. "Yeah. If you guys wouldn't mind."

Devon had already scooped everything up. "On it."

Ellie hooked her arm through Sarah's and sighed with a smile. "How's everything going?"

"Not bad," Sarah replied. "Team Bartowski made a pact to be nice."

"Ooh," Ellie laughed. "How long do you think that'll last?"

"About eight and a half minutes," Sarah replied. "But it's worth a shot...how's Clara?"

"She's good," Ellie said. "She's very happy with the tattoo shop and everything...I do sometimes miss that little girl who wanted to be a veterinarian, but she grew out of her teenaged 'I hate my parents' phase, so things are good."

"I don't know what Chuck would do if one of the kids went through that. Willow was always so sweet, and Case is the most even-tempered kid on earth," Sarah shook her head. "I give you and Devon a lot of credit for taking that in stride."

"Hey, you two have a whole other set of issues to deal with," Ellie reminded her. "At least Clara never ran the risk of coming home beaten up from a mission."

Sarah sighed. "Yeah. Willow's careful, but we can't help worrying."

Ellie smiled. "We're parents. That's what we do."


	4. Chapter 4

Being dumped caused a lot of sleepless nights for Clara Woodcomb. Not that she would ever admit that to her parents, but coupled with the time change from Chicago to Burbank, she just wasn't getting any sleep.

Predictably, there were other family members milling about the Bartowski Household that were staunch night owls. 

"Hey, Uncle Chuck."

He grinned as he wandered into the kitchen, finding Clara sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. "Hey."

"Nice hair," she commented, nodding to his messy, graying curls. "Very punk rock."

"Yes, yes, that is what I was going for at three in the morning," he joked, rubbing at the top of his head. "I am making a statement."

Clara smiled as she took a sip from her mug.

"How ya doin?" he asked, as he poured himself his own cup.

"Oh, fine. Christmas with the family. Isn't it picture-perfect?"

Chuck sat back, looking thoughtful. "I don't know about picture-perfect. We try to make it nice."

Clara looked at him appraisingly. She'd always felt her uncle understood her much better than her parents; that there was something she connected to in him as family that they just didn't get.

"Uncle Chuck, do you think Mom and Dad are phony?"

He blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

"They always act like nothing is wrong. They rarely fight...Doctor and Doctor Woodcomb. The perfect couple."

Chuck grinned knowingly and leaned over, pulling Clara's chair closer to his and taking her hand. "You look at your parents and you think 'these people are so ridiculously, annoyingly perfect, it makes me sick how functional and happy they are,' right?"

Clara nodded and gave a little laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly it."

Chuck nodded. "Y'know, when I was the Nerd Herd supervisor at the Buy More, I lived with them," he said, looking a little wistful. "And I felt the same way. Sometimes there's only so much time you can spend watching the perfect couple in action before your teeth start to fall out, and you want to gouge your own eyes out with a melon baller."

She giggled despite herself, resting her head on the table, still watching him.

"But I realized something after a while," Chuck told her. "I realized that what I was feeling wasn't so much the 'that's my sister and this is yucky' type of feelings. I...I was jealous."

Clara tilted her head, curious.

"I wanted to find someone to be happy with like they were. I thought I had in college, but that went up in smoke." He patted her hand gently in that awkward, but comforting way he had. "For some of us it takes a long time to find what we're looking for. Some people...some people never find it at all. I never thought I would, so I spent quite a while watching my smart, pretty sister fall in love with her smart, pretty boyfriend, and wondering...wondering 'when's it gonna be my turn? Why can't I have that?'"

She lifted her head, watching him as he spoke, and his whole facial expression changed, lighting up a little, making him look a little younger.

"And then one day, as you well know, a beautiful and very dangerous blonde walked into the Buy More with a broken phone and left me her phone number, and eventually, though I still cannot for the life of me explain how, she fell in love with me the way I fell for her."

Clara huffed. "I guess Mom told you. Brad broke up with me the day before we left to come here. That's why he's not here this year."

Chuck sighed and wrapped his arm around her. "Yeah, she did. I'm so sorry, kiddo."

She sniffed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"But, y'know, that's his loss, because you're great. All witty and funny and unique and very talented, and you were very fortunate to inherit all of the pretty all of the pretty that comes with being part Woodcomb and part Bartowski, and none of the weird. Be thankful, because our Case got some of the funny weird genes from mine and your mom's side of the family. My ears."

Clara laughed.

"The point is," Chuck went on. "If you're not what he's looking for, he's gonna have a hard time finding someone more awesome."

"Uncle Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you tell me stories?"

"Absolutely," he said. "Did you know that before you were born your grandma Honey decided you needed a dictionary?"

Clara pulled back and looked at him. "What?"

"Yep. No dolls or bears. A dictionary. I found your mom sitting around with it looking so dad, because when you think new born baby, you do not think dictionary."

"Clearly you think stuffed robot," Willow said as she wandered in and took the seat on Chuck's other side, and resting her head on his arm.

"What what what is this?" Chuck laughed softly. "Bartowski and Woodcomb ladies, what are you doing awake at this hour?"

Willow still had her eyes closed as she talked, her voice a soft mumble. "internal clock was like 'hey, Willow, Willow it's time to get up because clearly something terrible is going to happen like now so you better get up, and make sure you're not asleep when someone tries to kill you.'"

"Aahhh, spy instincts," Chuck grinned, wrapping his other arm around her. "I was just telling Clara about the dictionary her grandma Honey got her when she was in utero."

"Don't say in utero," Clara agonized. "It's weird."

Chuck shook his head. "Nana Mimi was much kinder to the two of you. She had a thing for getting you stuffed bears from every place she went."

"I still have my English teddy," Willow said.

Clara nodded. "I have the Russian one. Is Nana Mimi coming?"

"She won't be here til Christmas Day," Chuck told them. "But Uncle Bryce and Hank are gonna be here in the morning."

"It is morning," both girls replied at the same time, and then giggled.

"Oooh. Oh no. No giggle fits. Not at this hour," Chuck warned them. "I know that when we put the two of you in the same space there tends to be weird bouts of giggles that won't stop, but I am not dealing with it."

And even with that, the giggles started up, both girls trying to control themselves, both failing, covering their faces, their eyes squinting with laughter in the exact same way, betraying their shared DNA.

"And on that note, I am going to bed," Chuck told them. He kissed both of their foreheads and then got to his feet. "Goodnight, girls."

The giggling continued.

* * *

><p>Two things woke the Colonel, who was, admittedly a light sleeper to begin with, but two things woke him.<p>

The first being two sets of giggles, which was normal. Willow and Clara were obviously up, and having one of their world famous girlie giggle sessions. It had become a tradition they seemingly couldn't help. Put them in a room together and it just happened.

The second thing that woke the Colonel was a creaking from the second level; an odd sound that didn't sound anything like a floorboard. It was a lurching creak like someone was climbing something.

And so, Casey picked up his cane, and his knife, and headed up the stairs.

From one of the bedrooms, Morgan emerged, looking worried.

"Thank god you sleep with clothes on these days," the Colonel whispered.

"What? I am a guest in this house of course I do. Did you hear that?"

Casey grunted. "From the sunroom."

They inched their way inside, the Colonel taking point. Morgan picked up a book from an end table, holding it at the ready to kick the ass of whoever was sneaking around.

When Morgan flipped the lights, both moved to strike but stopped when they realized who it was.

Case frowned at them, clearly confused. "Uh. Hey." He stared at the knife in the Colonel's hand and his eyes went wide in that way that Chuck's dead, like they were going to fall out of his head. "Oh okay. That's...that's a large..."

"The hell are you doing up?" the Colonel hissed at his namesake. "It's three in the morning."

"Uh..."

Morgan huffed. "You snuck out. He snuck out."

Case smiled charmingly. "Only a little..."

The Colonel growled. "Go to bed."

"Going!" Case yelped and scurried off, past his mother, who was shuffling out to see what the commotion was. "G'night, Mom."

Sarah sighed. "You're lucky I'm too tired to ground you, Casey Stephen," she called after him. She peaked into the sunroom. "Casey is that a knife?"

The older man had the good sense to look sheepish. "Thought I heard an intruder."

"Just my son being a brat," Sarah informed them. "You guys should go to bed. Get some sleep before Bryce gets here, so you'll be awake enough to deal with him."

Both Morgan and Casey growled in unison.

* * *

><p>Morning came quickly enough, and Devon was at the helm for breakfast, flipping pancakes and cooking up eggs and bacon.<p>

Christmastime was truly awesome. And as much as Devon loved his own parents, he wasn't ashamed to admit that the best Christmases, his favorite Christmases were these, spent with Ellie's family; with these people that that had become his family over the years.

Jaina was already awake, sipping coffee, hanging out while he cooked.

"Morning, Dad," Clara said as she shuffled in, taking the seat next to Jaina.

"Mornin', sweetheart," Devon said pleasantly. "It is gonna be a great day."

"Please," Jaina said. "Please do not start singing." 

"What's wrong with my singing?" Devon asked, frowning at the girls.

"At this hour? Everything," Jaina said, sipping her coffee.

"She's just nervous," Clara said. "Her little boyfriend is coming today, and now the whole family knows about it."

Jaina looked less than impressed with Clara's teasing. "I don't care how bad-ass you think you are, Clara, I am a trained Marine. I will break you."

"No breaking," Morgan admonished as he walked in. "It's Christmas. Besides, I think Case did a good job of taking the heat off you. He got caught sneaking back into the house last night."

"He snuck out on Christmas Eve Eve?" Devon looked scandalized. "Not awesome."

"Chuck and Sarah are discussing punishment," Morgan said. "Actually they have been for about an hour, makin' him sweat."

"Ten bucks says they've been doing something else for the last hour that involves sweat, and has nothing to do with punishing Case," Jaina muttered.

"Ohh, okay," Clara wrinkled her nose. "Gross."

"Nothin' wrong with Sarah and the Chuckster having a healthy love life," Devon said. "Gotta keep that flame alive."

"Ooh, please tell me we are not talking about what I think we're talking about," Willow said as she pulled Jim into the kitchen.

"Your parents doing it?" Jaina said.

Willow sighed. "Hey Jaina, remember when we were kids and I threw up in your hair by accident? Don't make me do it on purpose."

"What is with all this bad will this morning?" Morgan cried. "It is officially Christmas Eve. I know it's early, and we haven't seen each other in a while, but it is a time for good will and cheer. To be nice to each other. To love each other."

"Just because I threaten to upchuck in Jaina's hair doesn't mean I don't love her, she's my sister," Willow defended, sitting in said sister's lap.

Jaina wrapped her arms around Willow. "And just because I threaten to beat Clara within an inch of her life, that doesn't mean I don't love her."

Clara gave her a thin grin and sipped more coffee.

Jim stood in the doorway, watching the scene play out, incredibly confused by the whole, odd mess.

"Hey, Jimmy," Devon said from the stove. "You wanna come help with breakfast?"

"I can't cook," Jim replied, frowning at him. The kid was clearly intimidated, and Devon felt determined to make him feel more welcome. "Sorry."

"Well, there's no time like the present to learn," Devon chirped. "Come on over, I'll teach you. And while I do, you can tell us a little about yourself. You're from London, right? That is awesome."

* * *

><p>Waiting for punishment to be handed down was always the worst part. <p>

It had been an hour, and Casey Stephen Bartowski was still pacing his room, waiting to see what his parents would cook up. Usually when he got into trouble, his father would disable his phone so that the only things it did were call either parent, or 911. No games, no text capabilities, no nothing, and he was required to have anywhere from one weekend to a whole week and a half of no fun.

He knew that if he did something really terrible, his punishment wasn't ever going to be so stereotypical. He'd watched years ago as Willow, after coming home after curfew, smelling of illicit substances, was forced to write down all of the reasons why what she'd done was wrong, as their father listed them off and explained them in great detail while their mother watched, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed and icy.

That was the way it had always been. Dad doled out the punishment while Mom sat back silently and watched. It worked because Dad was far less likely to lash out and say angry things he'd regret. When Mom got truly, righteously angry (which, to be honest, was pretty rare), it was best to stay out of her way until she calmed down.

But he and his sister were very different. While Willow rarely fought back against such things, Case had a bad habit of talking back and getting just as mad as his mother could, and so when he'd committed a similar offence to his sister's, the punishment hadn't really been a punishment so much as sitting down and being told what kind of trouble many people get into when they get very, very intoxicated, and that said activities could end in death, embarrassment and childbirth.

At which point he'd promised that he would act as designated driver for his friends. He even got himself a chauffeur's hat.

Last night had been an aberration. he didn't usually sneak out, but sometimes it couldn't be helped.

A knock on the door signaled the end of his wait.

"Yeah?"

It opened and his father stepped in, wearing his customary pajama pants and t-shirt, hair messy. "Hey, buddy."

Case waved absently, and made room on the bed for his father to sit down.

"So. It's Christmas."

"It is," Case nodded. "I had noticed with the tree, the full house and all the eggnog."

His dad gave him that quirked eyebrow "you're in enough trouble as it is" look, and Case shut up.

"So, in honor of it being Christmas," his dad went on. "We're not gonna punish you this time. But we did ask you not to make social plans during the holidays. This is the first time in five years the whole family is here."

"It's not the whole family," Case countered. "Mom's mom isn't coming, she's going to Aunt Molly's family's, and neither Grampa Jack or Grampa Stephen-"

"Ooh, semantics," the older Bartowski man marveled. "Are you looking for us to go back on our decision?"

Case sighed heavily and flopped back. "No."

He felt a hand give his knee an affectionate pat. "Do you miss your grandparents?"

"Kinda. I mean, Nana Emma I get. She's got other plans, but...Grampa Jack? Grampa Stephen?"

His father sighed and then flopped back, laying down next to him, both of them with their feet planted on the floor. "It's complicated."

"I'm sixteen, now, Dad. The 'it's complicated' excuse doesn't work so well anymore."

Case got a sympathetic grin for his troubles. "Case, if I understood it any better, I'd fill you in, but you know about as much as I do. Grampa Jack's not real good at keeping in touch and my dad...he gets in touch when he feels like we need him."

Case frowned. "I guess."

"Hey, but you still got me," his father said, trying for enthusiasm. "That's pretty good, huh? Dad one-point-oh! It slices! It dices! It can even bake a mean tray of french fries!"

Case laughed a little and let his dad ruffle his hair. Outside, they heard the sound of a loud, rumbling engine drive down the street.

"That is the sound of Uncle Bryce trying too hard to feel young again," his father said, sitting up and looking out the window. "You wanna go see what kinda mid-life crisis car he rented for this trip?"

"Can I drive it?" Case asked.

"I make no promises. Now come on."


	5. Chapter 5

Sarah shook her head as she walked out onto her front porch, robe wrapped around herself and cup of coffee in hand. A bright red Lamborghini Diablo slid easily into the driveway, just behind her Porsche, and the door slip as Bryce Larkin stepped out.

His hair had gone completely gray, and his face was a little weathered, but other than that, he still looked like the same old Bryce. 

"Really? A Diablo?" Sarah asked critically.

"What?" Bryce asked. "What's wrong with my car?"

"You know, Chuck and Devon are both perfectly comfortable driving minivans," Sarah pointed out.

The passenger door slid up and a young man with dark, spiky hair and amused, almond shaped brown eyes stepped out. He grinned at his father. "I think what Aunt Sarah is trying to say, Dad, is that you seem to have something to prove. Possibly, though I'm not sure, but that something might be a something that resides in your pants." 

"What?" Bryce laughed. "I like this car."

"So do your pants," Sarah said as she wandered back into the house.

Many years ago, Bryce had showed up on their doorstep, freshly back from the dead again, and needing a place to stay. And since Chuck was his only friend at the time, he'd had nowhere else to turn.

Chuck being Chuck had offered Bryce their basement, along with the couch, workout room and bathroom that went with it, until he got things straightened out.

Living with both of them had been an adventure for Sarah to be sure. The house renovations had just been completed and she and Chuck had just started to seriously talk about having kids. It had been a strange experience to think about having babies while her ex was milling around.

Chuck and Bryce had fallen into old habits developed during their years of cohabitation in college, and Sarah had watched in fascination. At first, it was comical, but after a month of it, she started to wonder who it was Chuck had actually married, and her uncharacteristically teary outburst concerning that topic had caused Bryce to speed up his timetable for leaving.

Once they realized that Sarah's short fuse had been caused by pregnancy hormones, Bryce had run for the hills.

Not long after, Bryce met his match in a young NSA agent who refused to put up with his crap, and he eventually married her. Together they adopted Hank (Henry William Larkin), who grew into an excitable young man, now training to work as a forensics expert for the FBI.

Bryce himself alternated between teaching at the Farm in Langley and going out on missions, while his wife Jo did the same. One of them usually missed Christmas, sadly, and this year it was her turn.

Sarah looked up as Chuck and Case hopped down the stairs and she wrapped her arms around Case before he could get by her. 

"You are so lucky it's Christmas."

"I know I know I wanna see Uncle Bryce's car!"

Sarah laughed and let him.

Chuck grinned at her and shrugged. "He's gonna try and talk Bryce into letting him drive it."

Sarah shook her head and kissed him before heading for the kitchen, looking at the assembled group. "Bryce and Hank are here," she told them.

A squeak emitted from Willow and she and Jaina dashed out of the kitchen and toward the front door.

Casey grumbled into his cup of coffee as Sarah sat down next to him. 

"It won't be so bad," Alex said.

"It probably will, actually," Morgan commented. "While putting Willow and Clara in close proximity causes giggles, putting Willow, Jaina and Hank in close proximity usually ends in pyromania."

"That's not true," Alex said.

"I hate to say this, but...it is," Sarah said. "Remember when Bryce, Jo and Hank lived here for three years and they all went to school together?"

"Calls from the principal all the time," Morgan nodded. "Individually? Great kids. So good. Even two at a time is manageable...but all three?" He turned to Sarah looking worried. "Did you fireproof the tree?"

Sarah laughed. Morgan was being overly dramatic to a point, but Willow, Jaina and Hank did have the habit of getting into trouble.

Jim frowned at them. "Should...should I be worried?" 

"It'll be fine," Sarah smiled. "You know, you and I haven't had much of a chance to talk."

"Jimbo here was just tellin' us about life in London," Devon interjected, carrying two overly large plates of pancakes over to the table.

"Yeah?" Sarah asked. "I haven't been in ages. Do your parents live there?"

"My mother lives in the country," Jim told her. "My father lives in the city...well, when he's in town. I don't see him much, we're not close."

"What does he do?" Sarah asked.

"He's actually an MI-6 Field Agent...hence not seeing him much," Jim said. "Very busy. In more ways than one, so I'm told."

"We've run into a couple of MI-6'ers in our day," The Colonel said. "Your old man gotta name?"

Jim sighed. "Cole Barker. At least that's what he calls himself. Whether that's his real name or not, I couldn't tell you...I should probably go out and meet this Hank person. Perhaps my being there will calm them down a bit and nothing will explode."

He grinned politely and left, not noticing Sarah and the Colonel's wide-eyed expressions. 

"Did he say..."

The Colonel gave a confused grunt. "Maybe it's a different Cole Barker. Maybe that's a common name in Limey-Land."

Sarah turned to him and took a large gulp of coffee. "With our luck? Not likely. God, there's no resemblance at all." 

"They probably have the same teeth," the Colonel replied lightly.

"Who is Cole Barker?" Alex asked.

"An MI-6 Agent Walker got comfy with way back in the day before Bartowski uploaded the 2.0 and became a spy," the Colonel said with a grin. "Your typical James Bond wannabe idiot."

"Talkin' about me again, Casey?" Bryce's voice asked from the doorway. "I love that you just can't stop thinking about me."

The Colonel merely grinned at him. "Willow's datin' Cole Barker's kid."

Sarah shot him a look.

Bryce blinked and then laughed. "Oh. Oh that is..that is precious."

Sarah gave Casey a sugary smile. "Just remember. Your baby granddaughter is dating a Larkin."

The Colonel gave a low growl, and Bryce frowned. 

"Hey. Hank's a great kid. He and Jaina are really good together."

"I agree," Morgan said. "For once."

"Frankly I hope Willow and Jim get married," the Colonel said, lifting his mug of coffee. "Just so I can watch Walker juggle Barker and Bartowski."

"There's no juggling," Sarah snapped. "I'm happily married, and the only reason I ever kissed Cole was to get him to go away."

"Funny way of makin' somebody go away," Devon commented.

"Tell me about it," Bryce muttered. "Where's the coffee?"

Devon handed him a cup. "Here ya go, Bro. How's the wife?"

Bryce sighed and slugged down half his cup. "In deep cover, sadly. But she should be home by the end of January." 

"Well, merry Christmas Eve," Ellie said with a grin.

"And to you, Mrs. Woodcomb," Bryce replied. "So when do we go A'karaokeing?"

Sarah groaned. "No. We're not doing that this year." 

"What?" Bryce cried. "It is tradition."

"What is?" Chuck asked, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a piece of bacon, taking a bite out of it.

"Nothing," Ellie said quickly. "Nothing."

"Karaoke," Bryce said. "Your wife and sister are trying to cancel it this year."

Chuck blinked, looking at his wife with positively wounded eyes. "Oh, baby, you wouldn't." 

"Wouldn't what?" Willow asked, pulling Jim into the kitchen, followed by Hank and Jaina.

"Cancel karaoke," Bryce said.

Hank gasped dramatically. "No! You can't! It's karaoke!" 

"I'm sorry, what?" Jim asked, confused.

Willow smiled. "Every year, instead of going around and caroling, we go to a karaoke bar."

Jim frowned. "What, really?"

The Colonel chuckled. "There's that resemblance."

Chuck turned to him. "What?" 

"Nothing, Sweetie," Sarah said.

He blinked at her. "Sweetie?"

"Karaoke!" Sarah smiled. "Everyone? This evening is karaoke night, just like every year so...be prepared!"

Ellie groaned, as did Alex, but Bryce, Hank and Jaina all cheered.

Chuck quirked an eyebrow at his wife, and was about to ask her what was going on, but was interupted by the growl of a Lamborghini Diablo.

Bryce tensed up. "Who is driving my car?" 

"Well, the only two members of our party not present are Clara and Case," Morgan pointed out. "So take a wild guess."

Sarah sighed as she watched Bryce make a mad dash for the door, followed by Devon. She rested her head on Chuck's shoulder. "We shoulda grounded him."

Chuck nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes we should have. Now. About this 'Sweetie' thing..."


End file.
